


To Kill a Fire Lord

by SzechuanSensual



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alpha Zuko (Avatar), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, And also a badass, He's also a spy, Jealousy, M/M, Omega Verse, Sokka and Zuko grow up together, Sokka is fireproof, Sokka joins the White Lotus, When the fire nation attacked Sokka hitched a ride on a battleship, Zukka Endgame, because why not, omega sokka, zukka - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:48:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24798706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SzechuanSensual/pseuds/SzechuanSensual
Summary: Toppling the fire nation regime is an inside job, and Sokka is just the man to do it.Too bad their prince is kind of cute.
Relationships: Sokka/Original Character(s), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 66
Kudos: 290





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You see there comes a point when your taste in ATLA fanfiction becomes so hyper-specific that the move is to just give up and write your own.

“Sokka! You forgot to wear your glasses.” 

The boy whipped his head to the side in defiant evasion. “I don’t wanna! I don’t need ‘em! I can see just fine!” He tried scrambling for purchase, but each time steady arms would reunite around his torso, anchoring him down once again. 

No matter, Sokka wouldn’t give. He longed for playtime without restrictions, like stubborn mothers who limited the amount of kids he could play with, or tinted lenses that made him trip and stumble into snow. It wasn’t fair. 

Glasses weren’t supposed to make you see  _ worse _ .

“But you do need to wear them, honey. Please. Put them on.” Her voice began to vibrate. 

Sokka smacked her hand aside. “No!” He didn’t want to make a fool of himself again. Couldn’t bear to hear the other children’s shrill laughter. “I don’t get it! You make me wear them all the time! Every day! It’s not fair!” His eyes zeroed in on the exit. Just a few more feet to freedom. Just a little further. 

“I know,” her gentle words made Sokka falter. From behind, his mother’s arm wrapped around his torso once more, only this time the force behind them disappeared. And as Sokka breathed in her familiar sweet scent, so did his anger. Dad mentioned she smelled like a fruit called  _ ‘mangoes _ ’, which grew where the ground was green, and the sun lingered longer. How wonderfully odd, Sokka had thought. He wished he could travel there with Mom, Dad, Katara, and Gran Gran. To taste a ‘mangoes’ and see if it was as sweet as she was. 

But Sokka knew better than to ask for such things. His parents hardly even let him go outside much. 

“I promise to explain when you’re older. But for now, please,” her head nestled between his shoulder blades. “Please just put them on, my moon. My precious moon.” Sokka’s back began to dampen and warm. “Please.” He calmed at the feeling of his mother’s heartbeat. 

Sokka decided to stay home again that day. Mom would worry less, and laugh more, and the room would smell sweeter. 

Sokka hoped when he grew big, he’d smell sweet too. 

  
  
  


***

  
  
  


Sokka found out the day the tribesman brought home a red soldier. 

An energetic buzz encompassed the town as crowds lined up by the docks. Sokka had to balance on his toes to get a good look at the center of commotion. Welcomed by the sight of a familiar patrol ship docked at port, he felt a wave of anticipation. The ship’s head bore the tribal crest of royal blue tides, with a white insignia to symbolize their chieftain. Dad must’ve come home early today. 

The reason why became clear as Sokka caught a glimpse of crimson red, a stark shade amongst crowded blues and whites. Their elusive visitor had other strange colors too, with milky pale skin and pitch black hair. Hands tied behind his back, the stranger stumbled periodically as tribe warriors shoved him forwards. 

A white man who wore the color of blood. Perhaps he was a ghost? Sokka became intrigued. 

Adorned by billowing wolf pelts that rode the wind, Chief Hakoda led the group with proud shoulders. Each step he took was confident, powerful. No one questioned his identity as head alpha, though Sokka thought he made an even better father. “Dad!” Katara and Sokka chanted. Katara made the first move, scrambling in the direction of their father only to be held back by her treacherous hoodie. “Hey!” She yanked against her mother’s iron grip. “No, Katara. Not now,” their mother said, earning a barrage of pained whines. With all attention on Katara, Sokka took this momentary distraction as cue to wrench his hand from his mother’s hold and make a dash for it. 

“Dad! Dad!” Sokka ignored the distant calls from his mother as he shoved past multiple bystanders. “Dad over here!” Small gloves waved frantically. The alpha’s stoic stature relaxed at the sight of his little boy, all fizzy excitement, as he almost crashed into his arms upon impact. “Whoa there buddy!” Hakoda boomed a hearty laugh. Whenever he talked to Sokka, he would crouch to his level so they could see eye to eye, like equals. Sokka appreciated this very much. Respect was something Sokka was taught to give, not receive. Best of all, Dad’s face was much easier to see from here. “Your father’s an old man. My bones can’t hold up.” 

Sokka continued to tug on his father’s caribou parka. “Nuh uh!” Sokka huffed. “My dad’s the strongest warrior in the world!” 

Another booming laugh. “Your right! Your right! If daddy can’t handle this he wouldn’t be much of a warrior would he! Oh but  _ Sokka… _ ” The chief wailed while rubbing his scruff against Sokka’s cheek, inciting tickled giggles. “You’re the great Chief’s ultimate weakness. Whatever should I do!” 

“You should shave,” Sokka mused. The alpha’s chest rumbled. 

“Chief.” Bato placed a hand on his father’s arm, an amused smirk not quite matching his professional tone. “We need to take the prisoner in.”

“Prisoner?” As Sokka tilted a curious head over his father’s shoulder, Hakoda tilted his head with him, blocking curious eyes from view. “Who is it?”

“Someone you don’t need to worry about.” Firm hands guided Sokka to spin around, giving a gentle nudge away from the prisoner in question. “Go sit tight with your mom and sister while we take care of business. If you’re good I might even take you hunting later.” An assuring pat on the back. 

“Hunting?” Sokka perked. 

“Mmhm. So listen well and wait for me. I’ll be home soon.” 

“‘Kay.”

Sokka tried to wait. He really did. 

He ‘sat tight’ and did everything mom said like Dad told him to. But hours passed, and the sky began to darken, and Sokka was  _ dying  _ of boredom over here. He always stayed at home. All the time. He’s missed so many cool things, like penguin sledding competitions or training drills. The former he couldn’t go to because of his mom, and the latter he couldn’t go to because of his ‘nature’.

Then he remembered red. 

And then had an idea. Probably a bad idea, but, if Sokka got just one little look at the prisoner. Maybe a little poke, too. You know, to see if his hand would fly through. Standard ghost busting procedure. 

If he was quiet, no one would really be troubled would they? Besides, ‘prisoner’ beat all the coolest of cool things. 

Sokka waited until his family’s breathing slowed before tip toeing into the night. Towards the only lit igloo in sight. 

Muffled voices drifted across seal skin as Sokka leaned in. “...gathered intel...who’s orders?” He creeped over to the back exit, and pressed an eye against curtain openings for a better view. 

“You think I’ll tell you savages anything?” The prisoner sat kneeled with a dark purple bruise shading his jawline. In front of him stood the chief, as well as his right hand man Bato by his side. Stationed at each corner of the room stood a standing guard, machetes unsheathed.

“You’ll tell us if you value your life,” Bato growled. 

The prisoner cackled. “Oh my life has reached its full potential. The firelord will see to it that my family is set for life. I shall become one with Agni, a most honorable death. I almost feel sorry that yours won’t be the same.”

The resounding smack caused Sokka to flinch. Bato cracked his knuckles and stepped back, shrugging at Hakoda’s unimpressed stare. __

An especially wet cough splattered the carpet.  _ Ghosts don’t bleed _ , Sokka had thought as the prisoner took his time rising off the floor. “You seem awfully confident that we’ll die, considering you’re currently six against one.” Hakoda said coolly.

“Oh it won’t be my hands that kill you, Chief Hakoda,” he wheezed. “That I’m well aware of. But my words will.” His face twisted into a crazed smile. “Your little town will burn to the ground. Though, I wouldn’t even call it a town. So primitive.”

“Watch your tongue,  _ rat. _ ” Bato spat. The prisoner cackled some more.

Hakoda raised a placative hand to stand down. “Nutaaq, send word to ready all ships and triple patrols. The fire nation is coming.” Sokka ducked from view as said warrior parted the curtains to make a hurried exit. 

“And what of the prisoner?” One of the other warriors asked. 

“He’ll live for now.” Hakoda’s eyes narrowed. Sokka had a difficult time identifying this ice statue to be his father. “For information.” 

“Yes I’ve got plenty of that,” the prisoner singsonged. “Like for instance...oh! Your wife’s a water bender right?” The statue betrayed no reaction. “No?” The man tilted his head thoughtfully. “I suppose it’s your daughter then.” 

A sickening crunch sounded as the prisoner slammed against the floor. He spat out a bloody clump eerily resemblant of a tooth, eyed it, then laughed. “Scared, Chief? You should be.” Gold eyes traveled the room before locking onto Sokka’s. They widened, then crinkled into a devilish grin. 

“Us rats are dangerous things.”

Sokka couldn’t sleep that night. 

Quiet darkness left room for loud thoughts, and the inside of Sokka’s lids replayed flashing images of red soldiers with golden eyes.

Golden eyes like his own.

  
  
  


***

  
  
  


“Am I evil?” Sokka’s reflection stared back at him from the wash tub. He tossed in a pair of socks and watched the ripples distort speckled gold. 

“Evil?” Katara asked incredulously. “Why on earth would you think  _ that  _ Sokka?” Her nose crinkled in distaste. 

A limp shrug. “Dad brought home a red soldier with gold eyes. No one else has gold eyes.” His head hung low. “No one except me,” he muttered. 

The slow once over that followed had Sokka fidget nervously from his seat. His glasses were secured into a burlap sack, leaving his eyes naked under scrutiny. Katara then grabbed a pair of pants, wrung out any residue water, and slung shot it to his bicep. 

“Ow! What’s wrong with you Katara?” He gave the wet imprint a piteous rub. 

“No, what’s wrong with  _ you  _ Sokka?”

“I told you!” Exasperated hands launched into the air. “I’m evil!”

Another smack. This time it was Gran Gran’s thermals. 

“Ow! Why’d you hit the same spot again?!”

“Because you’re stupid!’ The beta huffed as she crossed her arms. “And definitely not evil. Who cares what color your eyes are! That’s about as much a part of you as my hair loopies are of me! If my loopies were evil would  _ I  _ be evil?” Brown locks swayed as she jut her chin forwards. 

“What? That’s stupid! You’re not evil!” 

“ _ Exactly _ . So stop being stupid and wash these shirts for me.” She eased up on the clothing toss this time around, and it took a few double takes for Sokka to realize that Katara had left most of the load on her side. 

Sokka smiled. He could always count on his sister to lessen the burden. 

  
  
  


***

  
  
  


“You’ve been blessed by the Gods, Sokka. By Agni.” Gran Gran’s needle weaved spirals around her quilt, tugging to tighten loose patches here and there. 

Mom liked to praise Gran Gran’s quilts, declaring a number of times how they were the most  _ ‘vivacious’  _ and  _ ‘dynamic’  _ quilts around, which Sokka didn’t quite understand but would nod along anyways. 

He guessed it had something to do with her quilts’ different colors. The quilts he’s seen in other homes usually stuck to the same tribal hues: blue and white. A smattering of brown, maybe. But Gran Gran spent a lot of time experimenting with dyes, and taught Sokka every new shade as she did so. Green and grey. Beige and black. Orange, teal, rose, honey yellow, and yes, gold too. 

The last color took the longest for her to get down. Sokka thinks it might be because she wanted them to match his eyes. His heart felt warm when they finally did. 

“I don’t want anything to do with Agni.” Sokka pouted, sprawled out over a pile of Gran Gran’s multicolored cloth. The red soldier mentioned  _ ‘being one with Agni,’  _ as well as many other ugly things. 

Gran Gran tutted. “Do not blame Agni for the disobedience of their children. An especially unruly child might slip from a parent’s control. Isn’t that right, Sokka?”

Sokka huffed into fabric. “M’guess.” He rubbed his nose and breathed in cotton indigo. “Still don’t see why I couldn’t just be blessed by Tui or-or  _ La _ .” 

The moon and ocean. God turned spirits, so that they could live amongst their children, unite with nature, or so the stories told. 

“Oh but you are, Sokka.”

“No,” he pressed his lips. “ _ Katara _ is. She’s the water bender.” Another reason why life was unfair. Katara was born with blue eyes. Could go outside all she wanted. Could play with whoever she wanted, and recently began to play with  _ magic water _ on top of it all. 

She also didn’t have a funny mark on her neck like Sokka did. A flower tattooed onto his skin by the Gods (with permanent ink, Sokka had discovered when trying and failing to scrub it off). He used to hate it, because people treated him differently when they saw it. Like he always needed help.

Mom loved it though. Dressed him in as many non-collared shirts as possible. She liked that they matched, only Sokka’s mark was more _‘wild’_ than hers. Mom loved that even more. She said it suited him. 

Sokka learned to hate it less after. 

“You don’t need bending to be of water tribe, little moon. Water runs through your veins.” Her finger trailed from his inner wrist, and traced upwards along blue branches. “And fire runs through your spirit.” She booped the top of his nose, straight dab between gold orbs. 

Sokka’s face twisted, fearful. “Am I…am I a  _ firebender  _ then?”

Gran Gran’s smile was patient, kind. She shook her head. “Spirituality runs deeper than bending. We are not talking about firebending, Sokka, we are talking about your soul.” 

“So my soul is evil. Great.” 

An aged sigh. “No, Sokka. You are not evil. No one is evil simply for possessing qualities of the Sun alone. It’s what you do with it that matters most.” 

“Mmmrf.” Maybe if Sokka smothered himself in Gran Gran’s quilts long enough he could put out the fire. Fire needed oxygen right? 

“You know, being born with the eyes of another nation is considered a rare blessing among many cultures. A sign you are in tune with more than one element.” Gran Gran hummed approval at her embroidery, a blue arch that spiraled into red. Water turned fire. 

Sokka shot up and gasped. “ _ Avatar _ .”

Gran Gran chuckled, very amused. “No, Sokka, you are not the avatar.” The boy deflated at the prospect of a life without awesome power. Shoot. “However,” she placed a playful finger to her chin and hummed, as if in deep thought. “I suppose you’re a bit closer to the avatar than the rest of us.” She winked. 

Sokka gleamed. 

  
  
  


***

  
  
  


Tonight he was assigned campfire duty. This was a very, very big deal. 

People rarely trusted Sokka to take care of anything. He had gathered lichen and moss for the campfire, but holding the flint? Lighting the fire? Too dangerous. They wouldn’t even let him venture too close to the fire. At least until now.

It took a couple tries, but Sokka had watched other people do it many times. Mimed their actions with empty hands in case the day came when he’d finally be allowed to do the honors. 

Sparks came, then fire, and Sokka fell into a trance. 

Up close the flames were dancing, orange tendrils swaying under the cool breeze like a wildflower. 

Then Sokka had a dangerous thought: fire was pretty. 

And he wanted to touch it. 

Hesitant, he reached a hand at the bright flower’s tip, where playful petals danced. Its ends tickled against his palm, but Sokka felt no pain. That was odd, he had heard stories from the tribe warriors, caught glimpses of their burns. Fire should hurt. A lot. 

Call it confidence or foolishness, Sokka shut his eyes and lurched his hand forwards, all the way to the fiery pit. 

It felt warmer now, yes, but still no pain. 

Sokka’s eyes widened. “Whoa.” 

“ _ Sokka! _ ” A strong, calloused grip wrenched his hand from the flower’s tendrils, swerving him around to face his father’s furious glare. “What in Gods names were you  _ thinking _ ?”

“I-I”

The alpha yanked Sokka further from the campfire by his arm, now raised in the sky for inspection. Sokka hung limply as he whimpered. Another hand reached to pull down the sleeve of Sokka’s parka, exposing his skin to crisp night air. Narrowed eyes searched and searched, then widened, for the burns they searched for weren’t there. 

Released from his father’s powerful grip, Sokka grunted as he plopped onto icy ground. “Sokka,” his father said carefully, eyes still scanning his form. “You, you put your whole hand into the fire, didn’t you?” 

“Y-yes?”

The grimace on his father’s face made Sokka want to shrink deeper into snow. “And, how did it feel?”

A long beat. “Warm?” And gentle. And carefree. And...and  _ nice _ . But the look his father wore had Sokka doubt these things. 

“Dad? Am I…” Sokka gulped, the winter chill had settled into his bones. “Am I a firebender?” it came out as a whisper. 

The chief rubbed his temples as if to quell an oncoming headache. “No. Maybe? I don’t know...But I doubt it.” He eyed the still dancing fire with an unreadable expression. “Firebenders are only immune to their own fire,” he explained, voice grim. 

“Oh,” Sokka said, eyebrows furrowed. “Then why-”

“I don’t know, Sokka.” Hakoda scanned their surroundings for possible witnesses. It seemed everyone was still out gathering supplies for tonight’s campfire dinner. Stiff shoulders slumped in relief. Hakoda crouched down, gave Sokka another considerate stare, then pushed Sokka’s glasses up the bridge of his nose to straighten them. “Sokka,” Hakoda’s tone returned to what Sokka knew well, self assured. “You can’t tell anyone fire doesn’t hurt you. Understand? Nobody can know except us.” 

“Nobody?” Sokka echoed.

Hakoda nodded. “Nobody. Maybe the rest of our family in time. But the less who knows the safer you are, okay bud?”

“M’kay.” Sokka sniffed. He didn’t notice the tears rolling until now. 

The chief sighed as he pulled his son into a warm hug. Little arms wrapped around wolf pelt to return the gesture. 

“Maybe this is a good thing,” Hakoda muttered, more to himself. “Maybe it’s safer this way.” 

  
  
  


***

  
  
  


With morning daylight came black snow. 

Dad said it was the soot produced by fire nation battleships, residue from burnt coal. 

Gran Gran mentioned that black symbolized mourning and death. Sokka wondered if this was what she meant. Because as he saw the town erupt into flames and ash, Sokka understood why fire should be feared. 

And after Katara left him in the confusion, yelling something about ‘finding Mom’, Sokka was alone. 

“Hello little one.” Sokka gasped as he was yanked back by the ponytail. “Care to tell me where the water bender went?” The man’s voice rumbled, fiery breath nipping his ear from behind. 

Sokka flailed under the soldier’s grip.  _ Katara.  _ The boy growled and began to tug harder, letting strands of brown shred from his scalp. He needed to find his sister before they did. 

“You’re a feisty one, aren’t you?” A sharp pain flashed against Sokka’s temple as he was knocked to the side, followed by a vice grip around his throat. The fire nation soldier loomed over him, pinning Sokka to the ground. “Now, tell me who the water bender is,” he growled. 

“M-me.” Sokka’s lied, voice ragged from asphyxiation. 

The soldier chuckled darkly, before raising Sokka by the neck and slamming him on the floor again. Sokka shouted in pain. “Don’t fuck with me, kid. I know it’s a she, and I know she’s related to the Chief somehow. I’ve got reliable sources to prove it.” 

He’s speaking of the red prisoner from before. That man must’ve found out about Katara somehow. 

_ ‘Us rats are dangerous things.’ _

“Tell you what, I’ll make it easier for you,” he purred. “Kindly point me in the direction of the Chief’s home, and I’ll figure out the rest.” 

“No need.” Sokka slumped in relief at the familiar sound of his mother’s voice. “You’ve got your water bender right here.” 

“Oh?” The soldier released his chokehold, leaving the boy to keel over and cough. 

“I’m Hakoda’s wife.” Sokka’s mother untied her engagement necklace, presenting the blue tidal insignia of chieftain, and tossed it onto the ground in front of the soldier’s feet. The man picked it up, inspected its elements, then threw it aside with a satisfied hmph. 

“M-mom,” Sokka rasped weakly. 

“Everything will be fine, my moon.” Even as she regarded her son his mother’s sharp gaze never wavered from the enemy. “Go get your father.” Her tone remained steady and sure. Sokka could always trust her to know what’s best. His constant pillar of support. 

“I’m afraid I can’t let that happen.” Flames erupted from the man’s palm. They lacked the carefree grace of a dancing campfire flower. These flames were sharp and mechanical, jutting from his skin like firecrackers. 

And in these sparks, Sokka sensed killing intent. 

“No!” Sokka lunged forward, grabbing the soldier’s arm and hauling it as far away from his mother as he could. 

The soldier stumbled in surprise, then growled. “Get the fuck off me you piece of shit!” The boy felt his body lift midair, but continued to clench his fingers until they turned white. He needed to get the bad fire away from her. 

“Sokka, no!” 

He needed to hold on. Needed to protect his family. Needed to-

“ **_Sit._ ** ”

He felt his limbs lock and drop as a tremor overcame his body, grounding Sokka to the floor in obedience. He’d never not been in control of himself. He didn’t understand what was happening. Sokka whimpered, petrified. 

“I thought you’d be an omega with that pretty face of yours,” the alpha sneered. 

Sokka looked to his mother. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead, but her posture remained tall, and her eyes stayed fierce, standing in front of her opponent as an equal. 

The firebender tilted his head curiously. “Are you not an omega as well?” The growl that followed caused another tremor to pulse throughout Sokka’s body. He’d never heard such a sound before. It resonated deeper than the others, drummed louder, and made Sokka want to curl his body inwards and disappear. 

His mother still stood, though her face tightened. “Hmph. No, you are. You’re just resisting.” Angry firecrackers returned from both palms. “How  _ insolent, _ ” he snarled. 

“Look away!” 

Sokka shut his eyes. 

When fire licked his skin, it didn’t feel warm or free. This heat was  _ ravenous _ . It devoured his mother’s flesh, then burped a sickly charred scent that forced him to keel over and vomit. 

Sokka obediently kept his eyes closed, like his mother wanted, but could still hear the shattering screams go on and on until his ears rang. 

Then finally, finally, sweltering heat had swallowed her voice too. 

Fire hurt. 

  
  
  


***

  
  
  


He kept Mom’s necklace. 

Maybe he was being greedy. After all, Sokka already shared her mark, and Katara would’ve definitely treasured it. Sappy memorabilia had always been more her type of thing. 

But of all the stupid things Sokka’s pulled in the past ten years, this could very well be the most, and last, stupid thing of all. So yeah, a little pick-me-up is nice. 

Dark blue leather embraced Sokka’s neck. Gran Gran said it symbolized loyalty, family. 

Right now it felt like home. 

Sokka curled his knees into his chest. The space in this crate was awfully cramped. He should’ve chosen a bigger one to stow away in, but he had to move quickly: clearing out its contents and slipping inside while avoiding fire nation radar. For once the fire nation’s habit of pillaging villages came in handy. 

Sokka hoped they didn’t take all of their tribe’s food. Winter was coming, and without proper preparation so would death. Older people, especially, were susceptible. He wondered if Gran Gran would get sick. That is, if she even survived the siege. 

_ Of course she’s okay,  _ Sokka reassured himself.  _ Gran Gran will live till she’s two-hundred.  _ He buried his nose into his pants, partly to quell his anxiety, and partly because it stunk of fish. 

The floor thrummed beneath the soles of his feet. Dad had explained how fire nation battleships were powered differently, that they didn’t need sails or wind to move because they had  _ ‘coal generators’  _ and  _ ‘engines’  _ instead. Boats were supposed to glide with water harmoniously. Not vibrate all icky-like. 

Sokka shifted to find a more comfortable position, a difficult task since his boomerang took up a lot of space. That and-

His father’s dagger glinted from his hip. It was smaller than Sokka preferred, but the only other weapon with a handle his fingers could reach around. Even he knew a boomerang alone wouldn't be enough to kill a fire nation soldier. 

Kill. Sokka was about to kill someone. 

No. Firebenders weren’t people. They’re monsters. They steal and murder. They-

_ Aren’t you a firebender? _

No. You needed to  _ bend  _ fire to be a firebender. Sokka wasn’t a firebender. He wasn’t like them. Sokka was...Sokka was fireproof. Yeah. He’d shield the good guys from those monsters. 

_ You just sat there.  _

Sokka would make it fine. He’d find him. Kill him. Then everything would be fair. Then he could face his family and say he did something except sitting around. Rid the world of another monster. 

_ You have their eyes.  _

Gods there wasn’t much room for air in here, huh? Sokka rubbed circles along sky blue jewel and willed his breathing to slow. Her necklace felt cool beneath his fingers. 

“I’m not like them,” Sokka muttered. 

“Who’s there?”

Sokka muffled a small gasp, grip around his mother’s pendant growing tighter. 

He almost couldn’t hear the  _ thump thump  _ of approaching metal footsteps over his own heartbeat. 

“Hello?” Oh gods oh gods their voice sounded close. They found him. They found him. He wasn’t ready. Why did he think this was a good idea? 

Footsteps halted just outside Sokka’s crate. 

He’d just have to get to them first - catch them by surprise. He came all this way and didn’t plan to die here, not without finishing what he came for. Sokka unsheathed his father’s knife. 

As the lid cracked open, the boy wasted no time jumping out to attack. A yelp of surprise sounded as Sokka swung his blade erratically - which only managed to make a few scuffs across the soldier’s metal chest plate. “Whoa there! Whoa whoa!” the man said, hands held out in a pacifist gesture. “Buddy! Calm down!” 

Sokka did not calm. Fear and adrenaline drove his muscles to move faster, harder. 

“I won’t hurt you. Stop! Stop!” The soldier grabbed both of Sokka’s wrists, tightening the one holding his knife so that the weapon clattered to the floor. Sokka growled and wrestled against his grip. “Look! Look!” One of Sokka’s arms were released as the soldier raised his hand to pull down his mask. “I’m not gonna do anything, see?”

Bronze eyes gazed at him, imploring. 

Sokka hesitated. He had never seen the front of a helmet, just, slide off like that before. It was odd. 

Also the man’s face seemed...more concerned than threatening. 

“Taku! Everything all right there?” a voice called from outside the door. 

Taku pressed a palm over Sokka’s mouth to silence the boy’s oncoming gasp. “Y-yeah!” He shoved the boy back into the box and smacked the lid on top. “Just, looking through some stuff.” Sokka heard a thud from above his head. It was Taku’s elbow, leaned over Sokka’s crate to secure it shut. 

“What stuff?” The newcomer had entered the room now. Sokka could see their vague silhouettes through the crate’s cracks. 

“Oh you know, water tribe stuff. Never seen it before.” 

A tired sigh. “That  _ stuff  _ is useful. Try not to break everything.”

“Got it.” The soldier’s gaze flickered back to Sokka’s crate. “Hey, uh, I think I might’ve left something back in the water village. Do you think I could go back and -” Sokka felt the lid fidget awkwardly. “- return it?”

A longer sigh. “There wouldn’t be much to return to. We burned everything to the ground, remember? I doubt anything or anyone survived.” The stranger huffed. “We’ve got all the remains right here.” He raised both arms to regard their surroundings, a storage room stacked with goods. Goods stolen from Sokka’s village. 

“Right.” Taku’s voice lilted. 

“Anyways, I guess if you’re not breaking anything I’ll go back now. Stop being nosy and do your job.” 

“Right.” Taku repeated with a bit more gusto. 

A tense silence encompassed the room as footsteps faded. Once the coast seemed clear, Taku slumped, turning around to check on the little stowaway. He jolted at the sight of the water tribe boy, curled into a fetal position. Sokka was shaking. 

“H-hey buddy. Are you -”

“Everyone’s gone.” Sokka croaked. “ _ You _ killed them all.” There was venom in his voice,  _ anger _ \- and hot tears billowing down his face to show for it. 

“Hey, whoa.” Taku sat on his knees to get down to the boy’s level. His voice was hushed, gentle. “I’m sure he’s just exaggerating- “

Sokka tried to scoot back, away from the fire nation soldier, but there was only so much room this box had to offer. “I saw you burn my mom alive. I  _ saw _ . She, she -” His face twisted as he burst out another sob. 

“Me?” Taku’s brows furrowed. 

Sokka didn’t hear. He continued to ramble. “You must’ve burned everyone else too. Katara. Dad. Gran Gran. Oh gods oh gods -” The accusation in his voice shifted into pure panic. “The fire. Fire. You, you. Mom.  _ Mom _ . I want my mom.” He buried his face into his knees, trembling violently, gasping for breath, mumbling garbled words and pleas for his mother. Pleas for her to come get him like she always did. Prayers. 

Taku raised a hand, to give Sokka a pat on the arm - or some other gesture of consolation- but realized he’d be the last person Sokka wanted to be touched by, so decided it best to keep his hands to himself. 

He waited a few beats. “I’m sorry. About your mom. I could never imagine -”

“ _ You  _ don’t get to be sorry, killer.” Sokka spat. 

“I’ve never killed!” Taku said defensively. Then his shoulders sagged. “Though you’re right, I lost the right to feel sorry.” A pensive pause. “But you know, about the rest of your family, there’s no way to guarantee they’re dead. Did you- ” Taku hesitated. “Unless you did?” 

Sokka shook his head, still buried from view. 

Taku gave a relieved sigh, which confused Sokka. Why would a fire nation soldier care for Sokka’s family? For their safety? “You know…” Taku rubbed his chin in consideration. “Captain mentioned to watch out for the wolf warriors. Especially their leader. Called him slippery- “ He stopped, realizing how the statement might seem offensive. “Though that’s a good thing!” He amended. “It means your tribe’s tough!” 

“My Dad’s- ” Sokka sniffed, “M-my Dad’s the leader.” 

Taku nodded. “And a threat to our captain!” His voice was far too cheery saying that about his own enemy. Sokka decided this guy was weird. Really weird. “He has a reputation, which is impressive.” He paused at the unsettled, possibly judgmental, look Sokka was giving him. 

“What I mean is- “ Taku groaned, running his hand over his face. “What I mean is that since your Dad is strong, there’s a good chance he got away, and saved the rest of your family too. Right?”

“My- my family’s alive?”

Taku flinched. “Well there’s no guarantee.” Sokka folded inwards. “But there’s a chance! And a chance is good for now, or well, better than no chance.” 

“Yeah.” Sokka rubbed the rest of his tears away with his sleeve and nodded. He’d take a chance. If it meant believing he didn’t lose everything. A chance was enough. “Yeah.”

  
  
  


***

  
  
  


Taku had come back. Again and again. Usually it was to bring food. Other times a blanket, or a change of (considerably oversized) clothes. One time he, courteously, brought a bucket. Sokka had flushed in embarrassment when he did. 

Taku explained that he was basically the ship’s errand boy, and therefore could move supplies around the halls without arousing suspicion. It also gave him a good excuse to visit the storage room, so long as he brought something from here with him when he left. 

He couldn’t be too obvious about it, though. That’s why Taku usually came at night. 

“Hey mister.” 

“Please don’t call me that.” Taku adjusted one of the crates of Sokka’s ‘fort,’ a concealed niche in the corner protected by a barrier of stacked boxes. There were so many here that it became surprisingly easy to stash a stowaway. “I’m not old enough to be a ‘mister’.”

Sokka tilted his head as if to say  _ you’re not? _

Taku huffed. “Fifteen is not old. You’re just really young.”

“But you’re old enough to be a soldier. Dad said only men could be soldiers.”

Seated next to Sokka, Taku relaxed against the wall. “Yeah well, I don’t feel like much of a ‘man’. Or an adult, really.” A lazy shrug. 

Sokka hummed, pretending he understood what he meant. Then he remembered a question that had lingered in the back of his mind a while now. For some reason now felt like the right time to ask. “Why are you helping me? Won’t you get in trouble?”

The teenager’s nose scrunched. “Following orders in this case would mean turning you in. I’m not about to have a kid’s blood on my hands.”

“Oh,” Sokka said. “Thanks.”

Another shrug. “Don’t mention it.” 

Sokka really didn’t feel comfortable with the idea of getting help from a fire nation soldier. But after Taku’s first visit he only came in normal clothes. Black clothes. Still obviously fire nation, but much less intimidating than the battle armor he wore before, and much more human. 

Even though Sokka believed Taku when he said he didn’t kill, Sokka still wondered what part Taku played when they raided his village, but decided not to dig, because honestly Sokka didn’t want to know. 

Because honestly Sokka had begun to look forward to Taku’s company. 

“Oh yeah,” Taku straightened, “I forgot to tell you. We’re almost about to dock. I know it’s fire nation territory, so it’s still risky, but- “

“No!” Sokka shouted, then remembered their policy of keeping volume to a minimum, and leaned forward. “No,” Sokka reemphasized, whisper-shouting. “I- “ Sokka paused. Up to now he avoided explaining his reasons for sneaking onto the ship in the first place. That it wasn’t an ‘accident,’ as he casually mentioned before, but definitely on purpose. Sokka avoided revealing that this whole time, he intended to murder one of Taku’s soldier buddies for vengeance. 

“I snuck onto the ship on purpose,” Sokka admitted quietly. 

Now it was Taku’s turn to break their volume rule. “ _ What! _ ” Taku winced, then leaned over to whisper aggressively. “You know that’s suicide, right?”

Sokka clenched his fists. “I wanted- I  _ want  _ to kill him.” Taku’s eyes widened. “The man that killed mom,” he explained, eyes on the floor. 

Taku released a long, weary sigh, sliding further down the wall. “Do you, do you know who it is? What he looked like?”

Sokka blinked. Would Taku help? Well, he had helped Sokka with everything so far, but helping Sokka kill a fire nation soldier seemed to be a line even Taku wouldn’t cross, as helpful as he was. “I don’t know his name but- ” an unpleasant memory flashed through Sokka’s mind. “His fire was mean.” He pressed two fingers to his mother’s necklace. 

A snort. “Well that doesn’t narrow things down much. There are about a hundred people on this ship alone, and there are  _ three  _ ships total. If he’s really on this ship, I can try to figure out who, but ‘mean fire’ describes over half the men here. Also- “ Taku turned to face Sokka properly, so Sokka could see the sincerity in his gaze. “I understand why you want to do it. Trust me, I do.” Eyebrows drooped in pity. “But you’re a bit over your head, Sokka. These guys are no joke. They’re-  _ we’re  _ trained to kill. And frankly, you just don’t have the experience.” 

“But- ”

“ _ Sokka.  _ Please, I tried keeping you alive this long, but if you do this it’ll all be for nothing. Please Sokka, you’re not ready.” Sokka didn’t want to hear. Refused to believe he’d come this far for nothing. No, no that couldn’t be. 

“I am!” Sokka protested. 

“How often have you fought? Trained?”

Sokka hesitated. “N-not a lot.”

“ _ Have _ you killed?” Taku’s accusational tone revealed he already knew the answer, and Sokka hated him for asking anyways just to prove a point. 

A beat. “...no.”

Taku nodded. “Well there you have it.” 

Sokka despised these tears the most, because they just proved Taku’s point further. Sokka was not ready. He didn’t know how to fight. He’d boarded this ship by stupid impulse alone, and now he was miles and miles away from home without a single clue of how to get back. 

Perhaps it was better that he couldn’t find the man that killed Mom. Besides, it had only taken one word - a single command - to make Sokka fall to the ground, useless. 

Taku placed a warm hand on Sokka’s shoulder. “Hey, we’ll find a way to get you home. I know a guy pretty close to port, with lots of connections. He’s sort of a big deal but- “ Taku shivered, a bead of sweat rolling down his face. 

Was Taku afraid of this guy? That didn’t make Sokka feel much better. 

The teenager shook his head, expelling all nerves, “ -no, no. He’ll definitely help you _. _ ” Taku’s eyes glossed over, which unsettled Sokka even more. “Though I don’t think he’ll be very happy to see  _ me _ ,” he muttered. Skipping elaboration, Taku jumped topics. “Anyways, I know I can get you off the ship - just carry you in a box like the way you came. It’s moving on from there that’s the problem. You don’t exactly look- “ Taku gestured up and down. “  _ -local _ .”

“Oh…well.” Ironic how the one thing Sokka’s always been taught to hide from the world will now be the thing that saves him. 

Sokka slipped off his glasses. Taku’s eyes blew wide. 

“Yeah,” Taku gulped, “we could work with that.”

  
  
  


***

  
  
  


“Taku! That looks pretty heavy. You sure you don’t need a hand?”

“Nope!” Sokka’s elbows scraped against wood as Taku readjusted his grip. “I’m good!” Sokka really doubted that. 

“Oh lay off, Lee! Let the boy have his moment. An alpha’s pride is no joke.” There was a chorus of laughs as Taku trudged his cargo across the docks. The teenager reciprocated with a very unconvincing chuckle. It’s a true miracle they didn’t get caught all this time.

Eventually Taku managed to slip into a dilapidated alleyway, set down Sokka’s crate, and give three knocks to let the water tribe boy know the coast was clear. 

Out popped Sokka, clad in oversized fire nation attire: baggy pants and a large shirt shading deep red, with sleeves that hung past Sokka’s hands. Taku pulled out a scarlet scarf from his handbag, then unfolded it to present a makeshift shawl. “We’ve gotta cover the rest. You’re skin’s a bit tanner than people here, which isn’t that strange, but might draw attention, or worse questions.” Sokka felt light fabric brush the top of his hair. Just as he was about to fasten a knot around Sokka’s neck, Taku paused. 

The top of Sokka’s flower imprint was covered by Mom’s necklace, but with such loose fit clothing the bottom half revealed itself. “You’re an omega?” Taku mused, a little surprised. 

“And? You’re an alpha.” 

“Well yeah but,” Taku scratched his cheek, awkward. “You don’t really act much like an omega.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The way Taku flinched seemed to indicate he interpreted Sokka’s question as more of an offended accusation, even though Sokka spoke out of genuine curiosity. After all, he had only known so many omegas back at his village - limited contact and all - and the only one he knew well was his mother. Sokka didn’t know how omegans were supposed to  _ ‘act’ _ . 

“Uh...oh!” Taku pointed to Sokka’ necklace. “You should probably take that off. Doesn’t look from around here.”

“Oh.” Right, a water tribe necklace - bearing their chieftain’s symbol nonetheless - lacked subtly. Reluctant, Sokka unfastened it, letting Taku slip it into his bag along with the rest of Sokka’s stuff.

Even under all these layers Sokka felt exposed. 

“We’re good to go,” Taku said. 

From there things went smoothly. But Sokka’s nerves were another story. Each time a body brushed by his shoulder, or a patrol soldier marched nearby, Sokka braced to run away, halted only by a reassuring pat on the back. Taku made a pretty good accomplice. He continued to assure Sokka that as long as Sokka kept his head down, they’d be fine. 

Sokka was conveniently shorter than most of the people on the street, so an occasional wandering eye would look over, meet Sokka’s familiar shade of gold, and brush it past them. 

His eyes were the golden ticket. 

“Stop, we’re here.” A hand reached over to block Sokka from going further. 

“ _ Here? _ ” Taku wasn’t kidding when he said ‘their guy’ was a big shot. Gods, Sokka had never seen a home so big. No wait, this was just the front entrance. Sokka his head in both disbelief and awe. 

Sokka noticed Taku fidget nervously in his peripheral. “Are you good?” Sokka’s concern fell on deaf ears as Taku raised his hand to knock on wood, paused, then gripped the iron door knocker instead. Two heavy thuds sounded. Taku stepped back. 

The door cracked open. “Taku?” It swung further open, revealing the lavish estate’s warden: a stocky middle aged man with sharp sideburns. “Hey Fat,” Taku waved with a sheepish smile. 

Fat looked unimpressed. “If the master sees you he’ll have your head,” he drawled, frank. 

Taku’s posture went rigid, then slumped. “I know, I know. But I’m not here for me.” He stepped aside, revealing the haggard, borderline malnourished child. 

Fat raised an eyebrow, gaze flickering between Taku and his new companion, then inclined his head for them to follow him inside. 

The place was even grander from the inside. Dad mentioned that other nations lied closer to the equator, which meant warmer climate and lots of plants. Not just the occasional spindle of dark brown that popped up here and there during short arctic summers. No, their plants were  _ green.  _ Everywhere. Some cluttered the ground, others shot into the sky. Sokka didn’t know plants could grow taller than people. 

Fat seemed to have noticed the boy’s gaping, and chuckled. “You like what you see?” 

“Y-yeah,” Sokka said. Then pointed at something he found particularly eye catching. “What’s that?”

Fat halted. “Do you mean the wisteria?” He tilted his head. 

“Wisteria?” Sokka’s voice came out breathy. He peered up at families of deep purple flowers, spiraling down branches like ribbons. 

“Yeah, that’s a wisteria tree,” Taku affirmed. “Lots of people like having them in gardens.” 

“Is this a garden?” Sokka asked, curious. 

Taku did a double take, then seemed to recall where Sokka was from. “Oh, I guess you wouldn’t know. But yeah, this is a garden.”

“Oh.” Sokka looked back up at the tree. “I like gardens," he said, and spoke from the heart.

A subtle smile crawled up Fat’s face. “Here- “ He reached up to pluck a ribbon of blossoms. The wisteria branch bowed to share. “This is yours now,” he said, handing it to Sokka. 

“But- “ Sokka felt a pang of guilt. It didn’t seem right to rip them off like that. They were beautiful where they were - in happy families. 

Sensing his concern, Fat shook his head. “More will grow. Besides I think this one suits you.” 

Sokka cradled the flowers like tiny miracles. “Thank you.” 

Soon they reached the main building. It’s grandeur lived up to the rest of the estate, though Taku didn’t seem to agree. He didn’t seem as excited as Sokka was. In fact, he seemed really, really nervous. 

Fat stopped in front of wooden double doors, and stepped aside. “Master is inside. You will continue on your own from here.” 

“R-right.” Taku gulped, then smiled at Sokka nervously. “Let’s- let’s go then.” 

Taku opened one of the doors, slipped inside, and made room for Sokka to follow. But just as they entered, a metal light flashed above Sokka with lightning speed, wedging itself a centimeter away from where Taku’s head just was. 

Sokka glanced up to see a knife lodged into the door.

Taku jumped, plummeted on both knees, and bowed to his assailant, forehead touching the floor in a mixture of utmost respect and fear. “Master Piandao! I- “

“I thought I told you to never show your face here again,” Taku’s master said, voice calm, yet still disquieting. His hands were folded behind his back as he peered out the window. Faced with his rear, Sokka couldn’t see what type of expression Master Piandao wore. He assumed it was a very scary one. “Abandoning the way of the sword, chasing fire nation pockets. Now you sully my floors with your filth, military scum.” 

Okay so Master Piandao was scary, but he was also pretty cool. 

“I apologize sir! I realize how outlandish this was of me, sir! But a water nation boy boarded our ship, and he needs your help! Sir!” Did Taku just,  _ admit  _ Sokka was water tribe to someone fire nation? A skilled fire nation master?

This seemed to have caught Piandao’s interest. He turned around - scanning Sokka up and down with cool, intelligent eyes - then harrumphed. “Now you bear the burden of your sins. How fitting.” 

“You’re Taku’s master?” Sokka asked, glancing back at the blade still lodged in the door. The man’s aim was impeccable. And that speed. Gods, it didn’t even seem like he tried. “You teach swords?” 

“I  _ was  _ Taku’s swords instructor, yes.” He sat cross legged to pour some tea. “Until he decided to betray me.” He took a sip, resolutely averting his gaze from said student - or well, ex-student. Cue a garbled whine in the distance. 

Sokka had another idea. But this time, he’s certain it wasn’t a bad one.

Mimicking Taku’s actions from before, Sokka stepped forward, took to his knees, and bowed deep. “My name is Sokka. I know I’m from the water nation, so I’m probably your enemy, but- “ But Sokka had something he needed to see through. To see finished. “- I wish to be your student too.”

“Sokka?” Taku had straightened. 

The swordsman took another nonchalant sip from his cup; any emotions he might have had were well concealed beneath his stoic demeanor. “And why should I teach you? Are you not here to return home?” 

“I don’t think there’s much of a home to return to anymore.” The swordsman hummed, considerate. “But even if there is, I’m not worthy.”

Master Piandao paused, then set his tea down. “Not worthy? Why?”

“I couldn’t do anything to protect the people I love. I saw my mo-” Sokka’s voice broke. “I’m weak,” he tried again. “And I’m tired of being weak.” His own honesty surprised himself. Made him feel bare. 

A tense silence ensued. Sokka kept his eyes to the floor - because of his embarrassment, but more because of fear. Of looking up to see their reactions towards a part of himself he buried that day. 

Trained silent feet shielded the master’s approach. Sokka didn’t notice his presence until a sheathed sword nudged Sokka’s shoulder, urging him to look up. 

“Very well.” Golden eyes widened. “I will teach you.” 

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sokka gets settled into life under the Piandao estate.

They gave Sokka the rest of the day to get settled in. Fat had offered many guestrooms for Sokka to pick from, but most were ridiculously massive in size, which Sokka didn’t feel comfortable with. He’d already adjusted to cozy igloos, more compact, yes, and therefore less room to stretch your limbs without elbowing temperamental sisters, but that was how Sokka liked it. 

Luxury was very spacious, and empty. 

So Sokka settled for one of the staff bedrooms. At least, they used to be. Now most had transitioned into storage rooms. Fat explained that the manor used to house many students and faculty, that it was a school once. Sokka wondered when Piandao stopped taking in so many students. 

“Perhaps we will reopen when the war ends,” Fat had jested. Apparently that meant never. 

Sokka stared into the closet where his tribal clothes hung along with boomerang and father’s knife. He couldn’t show these out in public, not with such overt shades of blue and white that screamed ‘water tribe boy’ - colors that made him miss home. Closet doors closed shut. 

Luckily his mother’s necklace was still wrapped around Sokka’s throat, nestled in the safety of a high collared vest. If there’s  _ one  _ compliment Sokka would attribute to the fire nation - he thought while admiring his reflection from the wardrobe’s front mirror - it’s that they were quite fashionable people. 

Three soft knocks sounded from the door. “Come in,” Sokka said.

Taku poked through. “Hey, so, I would stick around longer, but I gotta report back to home base.” Sokka had almost forgotten Taku was part of the military - the fire nation invaders who burned down his village no less than a week ago. “It might seem suspicious if I don’t check in soon, you know?” Taku seemed to have noticed Sokka’s nervousness, though misdiagnosed it as separation anxiety instead. “Don’t worry!” he assured. “I’ll stop by as much as I can. We won’t be going on another ship any time soon now, and I’m stationed pretty close to here.” On one hand Sokka felt relieved to know a familiar face would stay nearby, but on the other hand that also meant fire nation soldiers were within range. 

“Okay,” Sokka said.

“Okay!” Taku nodded. “I’ll see you then.”

Sokka wondered what Katara would think, if she found out he made a fire nation friend.

  
  
  


***

  
  
  


“Get up and do it again.” 

Sokka dry heaved into the ground, crumpled over from a considerably powerful hit to his abdomen. He wanted to get up, truly. But once his body had a taste of rest - even when it meant eating dirt - his muscles would anchor like iron weights. 

“Up. And this time don’t leave yourself so open.” Piandao spoke calmly into jasmine tea, seated from an overlooking porch. 

Sokka  _ knew  _ that. He heard it over and over again: how his body was littered with openings, no matter how solid his stance was, or how strong he gripped his shinai. It’s not his fault Piandao went through a few basic forms, threw him into the ring, and just  _ expected  _ him to win.  _ ‘Beat him. Then your true lessons will begin’. _

Well his opponent was three times his size and weight with the physique of a literal boulder, so yeah, easier said than done. 

The burlesque alpha huffed, a bored gatekeeper. “You’re not the one being tossed around all day,” Sokka muttered to himself, disgruntled. 

‘Don’t leave yourself open’? Please, with such ridiculous strength,  _ all  _ of Sokka was an opening. 

“I said,  _ up _ .” 

Vision swaying, the boy willed himself to stand. The past couple of days paid a brutal toll on his body. No progress, no progress at all, and with each failure Sokka felt his will slipping. 

“Come on Sokka, use your head.”

Sokka surveyed his opponent. Attacking him head on had been a pointless bullfight. So maybe, maybe Sokka was going about this all wrong. 

Master Piandao set his tea down with a  _ clink.  _ “Want to give up? I can find a way to send you home.” 

“No,” Sokka paused to cough. “Give me one more chance.” Master Piandao raised a skeptical brow. 

But something felt different this time. He could smell it, heated breathing and perspiration fuming the air. Alpha pheromones had always been more distracting than anything. However at times like these they could also be very telling. Sokka wasn’t the only one getting tired. 

Sokka braced into a horse stance and nodded, ready to begin. This time he let his partner strike first, an overhead swipe Sokka found surprisingly easy to dodge. 

Just as he thought, his movements were slower. Sokka’s opponent was large, but that also meant there was a lot more weight to swing around, leaving an incremental lag between each attack. 

A wooden shinai brushed the top of Sokka’s head as he rolled in evasion. 

All this time Sokka had focused on parries, like during Piandao’s drills, which always ended in either tiring out Sokka’s arms, or disarming him completely upon impact. So Sokka utilized his small stature to dance circles around his opponent. 

As a beginner, Sokka’s attacks were predictable, but  _ where  _ he chose to move wasn’t. 

He guided his opponent towards a narrow bridge that extended across the koi pond. The alpha’s movements were becoming sloppy, impatient - probably irritated towards what appeared to be flighty cowardice on Sokka’s part (it might have been just a little bit). A low humph of surprise sounded as Sokka leapt onto the railing, just wide enough for his shoes to shuffle over without slipping. 

The alpha growled then charged forwards, sweeping his kunai down by Sokka’s legs to trip the boy over. Sokka hopped, and upon landing, held his training weapon horizontally with both hands as he  _ pushed  _ as hard as skinny twig arms could manage. A  _ clack  _ sounded as the alpha’s shinai was lodged by the hilt, caught between Sokka’s hold and the railing. Crouched over with indisposed limbs, Sokka could only use the next best thing.

“Fuck!” The alpha’s forehead sported a bright shade of red as he staggered back, disoriented. 

Seeing stars, Sokka somehow managed to disarm his opponent with a quick swipe. Headbutts were a double edged sword. 

Finally, the tip of his kunai aimed - rather shakily - at his opponent’s throat. 

A slow clap. “Well done, Sokka,” Piandao said, continuing to speak even as Sokka kissed koi. “Not what I meant when I told you to use your head, but it’ll do. Towel?”

“Blrrrdbub,” Sokka gurgled. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

  
  
  


***

  
  
  


“You know, they say a good warrior rises with the sun.”

Sokka responded to Fat’s praise with a brittle smile. He didn’t know how to tell him that the only reason he was up so early was because he couldn’t sleep at all. Nightmares.

“I see that you’re enjoying the zen garden too.” Fat regarded Sokka’s bare feet with mirth. 

“Oh.” This wasn’t the first time Sokka visited. At first, the concept of a zen garden puzzled him; Taku mentioned gardens were supposed to have plants, but this one was all rocks, arranged in shallow ripples like a static shoreline. Perhaps that’s why Sokka gravitated towards it. This garden reminded him enough of water, enough of home, that it felt familiar, safe. Yet it was also warm and new, and when he’d wiggle his toes small pebbles would massage his skin, welcoming him, reminding him that maybe change isn’t so bad, and that maybe Sokka could, if not appreciate it, at least get used to it. “It’s nice doing this without getting frostbite.”

Fat laughed. “You’re an interesting boy, Sokka.”

Said boy tilted his head, earning a few more chuckles.

“I meant it as a good thing.” Sokka blinked. “Whenever Piandao assigns you a task, you never fail to surprise us.” Surprise them? Surprising Fat, maybe. But Master Piandao? Sokka wasn’t sure if ‘surprise’ was an emotion he’d be capable of, along with most other emotions. “My personal favorite was your signature. Using your face as an ink stamp, quite original.”

Was it? Sokka just thought it’d help the lesson go by quicker. 

“A good sense of humor is valuable during times like these,” Wistful eyes glazed over like glass, “and fleeting.” The lines of his face softened, as if he were a little younger again. 

Sokka joined Fat to admire the sunrise. “My mom said something like that.” He pulled at the collar of his shirt where blue jewel lay buried. “She says it’s why she married Dad.”

Fat nodded, approving. “A wise woman, your mother is.” 

Sokka liked how he spoke of her as if she were still around, and chose not to correct him. 

  
  
  


***

  
  
  


All chatter had ceased once Sokka entered the dojo.

“...I’m ready?” Gold eyes flicked back and forth between his swords instructor and ward, nervous, as if Sokka could immediately read something off about the mood. And judging by the considerate gazes trained on his form, as unreadable as their expressions were, Sokka knew somehow this was his fault. 

They didn’t grant him relief of an answer. 

“Fat?” He looked to the more honest of the two, or rather, the more open. Snapped from his trance, Fat chanced a weak smile. Sokka saw a wince instead. 

What bothered him most, however, was how focused Piandao’s eyes were.  _ Too  _ present: not admiring nature’s picturesque with a foggy distance, or lazily scanning Sokka’s rudimentary forms. No, they were trained on Sokka with rapt attention. 

Piandao approached slowly, raising the tip of his scabbard until it brushed the bottom of Sokka’s necklace. 

Sokka had changed into a different shirt today, one that left his throat exposed, because he finally trusted these people enough to see a piece of his mother; because they had long established that somehow, miraculously, they didn’t care where he came from. At least, he thought they didn’t. 

Then Sokka felt his necklace lift. 

“You’re an omega.” 

Oh. 

He followed Piandao’s gaze to his lower neck - his flower tattoo. “I am,” Sokka affirmed, voice unsure. 

Apparently that was the wrong answer. 

Piandao whipped around to curse. “Why was I not informed of this?” He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. 

Was declaring secondary gender important? Standard? Sokka figured it was one of those things that’d just pop up in conversation. He was never in a place where he had to announce it. People always just knew. 

Piandao turned his head to the side, addressing Fat. “Is Taku here? Where is he?” 

“Taku, Taku wanted to wait in Sokka’s room so as to not disturb you-”

“Bring that boy here now.”

“Yes sir.”

Hurried steps faded. 

The note of uncertainty that lingered in the air accumulated into a thick fog of silence. Sokka blamed the humidity. Cool arctic air had spoiled him so. 

Taku walked in, looked to Piandao, then at Sokka, then back to Piandao. “Shit.”

“So you knew.” 

The way Taku approached - steady, cautious - reminded Sokka of him and his father’s tiger seal hunts back in the south pole. They’re gorgeous creatures, deadly, and quick to anger. “I know how selective you are about your students,” he gestured carefully to said person, “but Sokka is-”

“Clearly an omega, and you have deceived me. Both of you.”

“I wanted you to give him a chance.” Taku explained, then winced at Piandao’s unimpressed glare. “I thought you could determine his potential first,” he tried again, “and you have. And he’s still here after all this time. That must account for something? Doesn’t it?”

‘He’ was also still here at the moment, and would appreciate more inclusion in this conversation about him. “I don’t understand. Why is it such a big deal?” 

“It is a ‘big deal’, Sokka, because there is a natural order in this world.” The swordsman’s punishing glare never left Taku, even as he addressed the younger boy. “An order that makes it impossible for me to instruct someone like you.”

“What? That’s stupid!” Sokka ignored Taku’s pleading gesture to settle down. “What’s the difference between someone like me and someone like you! Or-Or Taku!” Thrown into the line of fire, the teenager flinched under Sokka’s pointed finger.

“There is a considerate difference in power, and the fact you don’t understand that shows how sheltered you have been from the world.” Sokka was met with his master’s back. “We end our lessons here,” Piandao declared, final. 

“You said swordsmanship wasn’t just brawn, that it was more.”  _ ‘Creativity, versatility, intelligence’ _ . Master Piandao couldn’t just take it all back now. 

“We are not talking about physical power. We are talking about something intrinsic, animal. An evolutionary difference you cannot change. This is nature, Sokka, and I will take no part throwing you into the lion’s den.”

“Then teach me! Teach me to be strong enough so I can fight him and win!”

“Him?” Piandao drilled.

Sokka caved. “He took her away from me!” Obscured from his pupil’s view, an almost pained look flashed across the swordsman’s face. Sokka had struck a nerve. “He killed my mom when I was right there, but I couldn’t  _ do  _ anything! Because I was too weak!”

“So you desired strength for vengeance.” Piandao scoffed as he whipped back around. “Even worse. I never should’ve let you through my gates, let alone teach you. You would’ve abused your gifts. Perhaps you are right,” his eyes narrowed, “perhaps you are no different than the rest of them.”

“Then prove it!” Sokka shouted, desperate. “ _ Prove  _ that I have no potential, that I can’t learn to be better than them. Prove it!” 

“Fine.” Piandao strode forth. Trained silent steps now sounded deafening. “I’ll show you the difference between you and me, and I won’t even need to lift a finger to do it.”

“Piandao,” Fat pleaded from behind. “Don’t, he’s just a boy.”   
  


“So he will learn now and nip this impertinence from the bud. Sokka-” Sokka straightened. “ **_Drop your sword_ ** .” 

It had returned. The voice with power and command - a type of cruel authority that shook the earth as it laughed. Sokka recognized it immediately, this horrifyingly familiar feeling.

Metal clattered against the floor. 

“ **_Now sit_ ** .”

Sokka did. 

“I’m guessing you don’t know what an alpha command is.” Piandao closed the final distance between them and knelt down. Every instinct screamed at Sokka to stay, submit, even as his heart begged him to flee. “If I order you to disarm, you will disarm. If I order you to sit, you will sit.” The cool blade of Piandao’s jian pressed against Sokka’s throat. “And if I wanted you to die, you would.  _ This  _ is why we are different.” 

The alpha sheathed his weapon, then rose from the ground, turning to make his exit. “Once we find a way to send you back, you will leave.”

Long after sliding doors shut, the trembling wouldn’t stop.

  
  
  


***

  
  
  


Sokka took to avoiding Piandao as much as possible for as long as possible. 

It wasn’t hard, Fat had become a middleman of sorts, sending messages back and forth during the few occasions one of them needed to notify the other. The messages were very one-sided: Sokka wanted nothing to do with that man.

But Sokka  _ was  _ interested in the status of his ‘return’, which at this point seemed null and void.

Any connection to the southern water tribe - not just in fire nation territory but earth and  _ northern  _ water as well - was rare, if not nonexistent. It made sense, the only ‘visitors’ to their village that Sokka distinctly remembered were the fire navy, whom Piandao apparently didn’t have good relations with. 

In fact, Piandao didn’t have good relations with the fire nation military as a whole. 

Taku had raved on and on about Piandao’s prime, how he lead many battles for the fire nation and won every one of them; then, when the fire nation came to arrest him for deserting, he single handedly fought off all one-hundred fire nation soldiers in an epic battle (embellished by an enthusiastic soundtrack on Taku’s part) and emerged unscathed, thus earning the title of ‘only fire nation citizen that could publicly denounce their military’. 

Not to mention people still respected him. Which, well, how could you not? Even  _ Sokka  _ was having a hard time not thinking he was cool after hearing all that. Ugh. 

So Sokka didn’t find it too surprising when another potential student came knocking on Piandao’s doorstep.

His musings were interrupted by a sharp nudge to his shoulder.  _ ‘What the hell are you doing?’  _ Taku mouthed.

A stupid question, really. What else would Sokka be doing crouched over outside Piandao’s study?  _ ‘Snooping,’  _ he mouthed back. 

Taku’s lips shaped into a comprehending  _ ‘O’ _ . Bronze eyes flicked side to side, checking both ends of the hallway.  _ ‘Scoot over.’ _

And so two sets of curious eyes were stacked on top of one other, peering through the cracked entryway of their ex-master’s office as friends do. 

“As you can see, I am willing to pay you handsomely for your tutelage.” The tail of their visitor’s robes thwipped and swished with a theatrical flourish. Sokka could practically hear the peacock’s arrogant smirk. “I have traveled many miles from the capital in search of the perfect warrior, one worthy enough to become my mentor…” Blah blah ‘44th in line for the throne’ blah blah honor this status that. Sokka puckered his nostrils and mouthed along mockingly. Taku failed to suppress his snickers. 

Master Piandao could care less for social rank. In fact, Sokka was certain this guy would be kicked out just about-

“Perhaps if you can defeat one of my previous students in dual I might consider taking you in.”

Said ex-students froze in place. 

“Taku.”

A pathetic groan rustled Sokka’s wolf tail from above. Sokka looked up, patting the teenagers cheek in a sympathetic ‘there there’ motion, and giggled at the weary look he earned in return. 

“You come in too, Sokka, since you’re so intent on spectating anyways,” Piandao added, inciting a second undignified pout. Curse Piandao’s unnatural hearing proficiency. 

The peacock puffed his chest in challenge, then deflated at the sight of trivial peasant children, clipped eyebrows swooping to the ceiling. He reconsidered the benefits of commentating on the master’s choice in protege, then deemed it best to stay silent on the matter for now. 

“I don’t have a sword,” Taku said simultaneously as a long wooden spoon was launched into his hands. Bronze eyes drifted back and forth between the kitchen appliance and his challenger’s custom blade. “This is for soup.” 

Piandao nodded. “And now it’s for you. You lost the right to wield a proper blade.”

Taku sighed, long, at his ‘weapon’ before spreading his knees into a combative stance, mirrored by his challenger. 

Five, six, seven seconds passed, each opponent sizing up the other with diligent focus. Piandao had mentioned the importance of timing, how even the quickest battles were treated as a marathon, rewarding those most patient and alert. Sokka on the other hand never saw Taku fight before, and wanted to see some action already. 

The peacock pounced first, stumbling forwards in surprise at Taku’s swift sidestep. He then whipped his blade around, hoping to knick his opponent by the waist. Instead he was rewarded by a sharp  _ thwap  _ on the back of his skull. 

The man whirled around to no avail, for Taku shadowed his blind spot with nonchalant ease. He swung and swiped, testing different speeds, attempting new targets, trying to be as spontaneous as possible, but it was like fighting wind: any attempt to catch it left you with nothing but empty air. 

A frustrated growl earned another  _ thwap  _ to the skull. Sokka sniggered. The scene reminded him of a mother disciplining their misbehaved child. 

Taku revelled in his audience’s positive reinforcement, a wry smirk etched onto his face even as his back arched just in time for a particularly nasty lunge. The blade trimmed the end of his front bangs, less than a centimeter away from skewering Taku’s nose.  _ Thwap.  _ This time his spoon landed right on the arse. Sokka guffawed.

Piandao sighed, as if to say ‘just get on with it’. Taku obliged. 

The peacock clutched his flogged wrist, pained, as his blade clattered to the floor. Straight from the beginning the victor had already been decided. 

Then fire sparked to life, 

and Sokka felt something yank him back by his neck. 

“You said I just need to defeat one of your students, right? You’re a man of your word.” The man growled from behind Sokka’s ear, “Well here you go. Teach me, and nothing happens to the kid.” A clean dagger of fire brushed against Sokka’s temple; not as hungry as the one haunting Sokka’s dreams, and less wild, but shared the same potential for destruction. 

“Sokka!” Taku shouted. 

Master Piandao narrowed his eyes. “I didn’t take you the type to stoop to such cheap tricks.” He slowly reached for his jian. 

The arm around Sokka’s neck tightened. Piandao stopped. Sokka coughed. Did evil people have some sort of  _ fixation  _ with chokeholds? 

“Very well. Let him go and I will teach you,” the master swordsman acquiesced, raising both hands in surrender. 

Oh no. No no no no no. Sokka was not going to let  _ this guy  _ get to study under Piandao while decent people like Taku couldn’t. All because Sokka was dead weight. Because he had so much more training to do. Because he was still weak. 

But if Sokka had one thing he’s good at it’s pushing the wrong buttons, and no matter their secondary gender, all men had a specific button you should never push. 

So he kneed it, hard. “Fuck!” The peacock keeled over. 

Hot ribbons of light and heat burst at once, as temperamental as Sokka had remembered them to be. They wanted to hurt him, Sokka could tell, wanted to wrap him in their embrace, consume him completely, claim him as theirs. They certainly tried. 

“Taku, put it out! Quickly!”

“I’m trying! My bending isn’t good enough!”

At least they didn’t hurt; not in the way they would hurt other people, not in the way they hurt Mom. Good. Better if it’s him.

Though these weren’t the flames that hurt her, were they? They sparked too proudly, leapt at unnecessary heights, and danced for attention. These flames were just annoying. 

A firm hand dragged Sokka aside, veering him around to face determined gray eyes, scouring his form up and down for injuries. Piandao wouldn’t find anything. The only casualties were Sokka’s coat and trousers. 

At some point Fat had entered the fray, launching bucket after bucket of cold water to quell the fire. Taku took to taming it, engaged in an almost meditative state of deep breathing, though stayed present enough to land a couple more emphatic stomps on Sokka’s assailant. He knocked the peacock unconscious a while ago, but wasn’t nearly finished with him yet. 

Piandao stopped searching. “There are no burns,” he confirmed, quiet. 

Sokka heard. “I think it’s an Agni blessing...thing.” Sokka learned better than to doubt Gran Gran’s words. 

In a flash the hold on Sokka was relinquished, as if the water tribe boy’s skin burned to the touch, and for the first time ever he could see how Piandao felt. It was written all over the man’s face.

Disappointment. 

  
  
  


***

  
  
  


Sokka discovered a new room while wandering the estate. One he had never noticed before. 

It glimmered in candlelight: sleek redwood untainted by age, and a doorknob shinier than the others. This doorway retained the life that had been drained from the rest of the corridor, from most of the corridors in Piandao’s ridiculously expansive manor. An oddity among heaps of yellowing dust.

Inside was a normal sized bed for a normal sized room, mundane shelves with mundane books stacked on them, neatly, so that their owner could find and read what they wanted with ease. It would’ve been an unremarkable sight, if Sokka didn’t already know who lived here,  _ where  _ they lived. 

No one lived in this room, that Sokka was certain of. 

Alarm bells started ringing in his ear, warning him that he might’ve stumbled into something he shouldn’t have. So Sokka, ever the pragmatist, decided to dig more. 

He spotted paintings, lots of them, plastered on the wall overhead what looked to be a study desk. They were good. Really, really good, as if the artist froze reality and pressed it onto paper. Some depicted scenery, nature. Sokka’s favorites depicted people. 

One was a group of students, lined up shoulder to shoulder in front of the estate, swords at hand. They lacked the militaristic stone faces Sokka familiarized with fire nation portraits. Instead they were smiling. 

Another was of a strikingly familiar man. No, it was  _ Fat _ , only much slimmer and without gray hairs or sideburns, a couple years Taku’s senior. He was asleep, lying on a futon with cartoonish drawings slathered over his face. The perpetrator squated next to him, grinning goofily while brandishing her paintbrush. 

The next one depicted the same people. But this time Piandao was there too,  _ smiling _ , with Fat at his left, and the girl from before at his right. Sokka would’ve thought they were still teenagers, though their bodies seemed to have just settled into adulthood, and their stances were relaxed, confident in who they were, what they wanted to do. Just them three against the world. 

However, there was one painting in particular Sokka found especially magnetic. 

It was a portrait of that girl again. A woman now, sitting with her hair brushed to the side to expose an omegan mark. Like a flaming heartbeat, the mark’s tendrils spiraled further and further into the background, bleeding a multitude of vibrant colors into its surroundings, an epicenter for life. It was beautiful.  _ She  _ was beautiful. 

Hypnotized, Sokka reached forward and peeled back a loose corner where smooth calligraphy laid inscribed. “For my fated, from Piandao?” Sokka read. 

“I see you’ve met Kyouko.” 

Sokka yelped. Didn’t he close the door after he got in? Wouldn’t it squeak or something?  _ Gods,  _ that man couldn’t be human. 

Thankfully Sokka wasn’t in trouble. Or rather, Piandao seemed too enraptured by the woman’s portrait to question Sokka’s snooping. “Is she...a friend?” Sokka tried, awkward. 

“The best kind.” Piandao’s eyes softened. “She was my wife.” 

‘Was’, as in she’s dead, as in this was probably her room. Sokka was digging through his dead wife’s room. Great. 

He joined Piandao to admire the portrait longer. “Was she a warrior too?” Sokka asked, eyeing the sword perched on her lap. 

Piandao nodded. “The most talented duelist I know.” He noticed Sokka’s gaze drift to the other painting, the one of his students. “She founded it.”

“What?”

“The school,” Piandao clarified. “Kyouko started the school. It was by accident, really. No one would teach her-” Sokka eyed her omegan mark; he could guess why. “-so she demanded I teach her instead.” He let out an amused huff. “Of course she then criticized me for only having her as a student, and one by one would drag in a random new face, a new pupil, until eventually I agreed to build a school with her. We were all teachers. Kyouko, Fat, and I.” The ends of Piandao’s eyes crinkled. Like he wanted to smile, but forgot how. “We had no clue what we were doing at the time.”

“She was an omega,” Sokka couldn’t help but point out. “but you still taught her, and she turned out strong.” Then why, why-

Piandao read the question in Sokka’s mind. “Why then, did I refuse to teach you?” 

A slow nod. 

Piandao sighed, patient. “Kyouko was not ashamed of her nature. She embraced it, used it as all the more reason to master her art. It drove her.” 

Sokka furrowed his eyebrows, confused. Wasn’t Piandao contradicting his original point? “So-”

“So her talent threatened people. She broke tradition, made them feel small.” Piandao clenched his fists. “They waited until I was dispatched to battle at a northern Earth Kingdom. That was when they took her.”

Sokka gulped. Piandao said Kyouko was the ‘most talented duelist’ he knew, so how-

“They were alphas,” Piandao explained, seeming to read Sokka’s mind once again. “They abused the command, because they knew they’d be no match for her on a level playing field, because they were cowards.”

“I’m sorry,” Sokka said, not knowing how else to respond. 

“All is in the past.” Silver eyes hardened and narrowed. “I took care of them long ago.”

The implication of those words hung in the air. 

“The alpha command got my mom too,” Sokka admitted, because he felt guilty, and thought sharing something personal in return would balance the scales. 

Piandao stiffened. A terse beat of silence followed. “I must have sparked unpleasant memories for you the other day. I apologize.”

Sokka shrugged. 

“I-” Piandao struggled for a moment. Sokka found this very odd, and kind of unsettling. “Sometimes you remind me of Kyouko, but that day I saw myself in you instead.” His forehead creased. “I lost my composure.”

“Really?”

“If you want nothing to do with me anymore, I understand, but if not-” Piandao paused. “-then I’d like to take you in as my student again.”

“Really!” 

“Yes but-”

“You are one-hundred percent totally forgiven, Master P!” Sokka let out a victorious cry. “Oh I can’t wait! You won’t regret this, I promise!”

“Sokka-”

“Can we start right now? Oh wait, it’s like the middle of the night. It’s okay! I can wait a couple hours!”

“Sokka-”

“Fat says a good warrior rises with the sun so we can start right at dawn!”

“ _ Sokka. _ ”

Sokka hesitated. 

“I will say this once, and I won’t say it again.” The master swordsman turned to face him. “You are more worthy than any student I’ve ever met.” Sokka brightened. “But that’s not enough.” Sokka slumped. “Your nature is a major weakness. A fatal one.” Sokka slumped further. “However your affinity for fire will be your wild card, and it might just keep you alive.”

“Um, I’m not a firebender.”

“No,” Piandao shook his head. “Firebenders are tolerant. You, Sokka, are  _ resistant _ .” Piandao unsheathed his jian. “If I am to take you under my instruction, you cannot be like any of the students I’ve taught before.” He brought the blade to his hand. “I will work you to the bone, Sokka, and you will feel unimaginable pain. Nothing will compare to it.” His face betrayed no reaction as he slit his palm. Droplets of blood dribbled and dripped, staining tatami floors bright red. 

Well that wasn’t intimidating.

“Because I see potential in you.” He presented the handle of his prized jian, a sacred extension of his body, for Sokka to take. “I will make you into one of the greatest warriors this generation has ever seen.” He raised his palm, the bloody stamp to their agreement. “The decision is yours.”

With a pained bit lip, Sokka sealed it.

  
  
  


***

  
  
  


“Have you seen Taku? He promised to spar with me today.” Sokka said while reaching for a lychee treat. Fat hissed and smacked the hand away, frantically rearranging the platter of luxurious sweets. 

“Piandao ordered him out.” He took care to pour each cup of tea with exact precision. 

Sokka rubbed his hand piteously. “Why would he do that?” 

Gray sideburns drooped into a frown. “You know he’s not even allowed on the grounds, let alone distract you on a regular basis. Take your training seriously.”

“I  _ know  _ that,” Sokka whined. “That’s why Taku’s helping me.” Fat muttered something about their training being  _ ‘a little too fun’.  _ Arms crossed, Sokka perched on the table with a huff, inducing another panicked cleaning fit out of the ward. “I’m hardly ever allowed outside the walls. You can’t blame me for wanting some compan-yeow!”

Fat wagged a wooden spoon, threatening. “I just polished that. Besides, you won’t have to worry about company. We’re expecting some today.”

Sokka perked. “Really?”

“Yes, very important company,” Fat rescrubbed the table with dutiful diligence. “so you must be on your best behavio- no swords on the table!” Sokka backed off, or rather, Fat warded him off with his makeshift beating stick. “No swords, no feet, no knick knacks-”

“They’re not knick knacks, they're my creations!” 

“Yes none of those. And  _ no  _ Taku. Absolutely no Taku. Just one of you is enough.” Sokka pouted. Him and Taku were a delight. How rude. “Take care not to reveal too much about yourself, which means-”

“Yeah yeah my name is Lee, I’m from the colonies, Master Piandao took me in as a charity case...” Sokka’s voice drifted.

“ _ And? _ ”

“And I’m a beta!” Sokka tilted his head to reveal a one-hundred-percent concealed flower tattoo. “Right pshh I got this Fat no worries.” The old man set down his kettle and threw a sceptical look. What? Sokka could be trusted 

After thirty minutes of fussing over Sokka’s attire and hair - twenty minutes of which consisted of arguing whether to keep or scrap the wolf tail - Fat had finally ushered out a depressed, non-ponytailed Sokka to wait outside by Piandao. The boy twiddled the ends of brown locks, lazily scanning the day’s weather ( _ whoa clouds can be that thin? _ ) until a sharp jab to his ribcage signaled him to straighten. 

If Sokka thought the peacock was well off, then their ‘important company’ was  _ loaded _ . Sokka didn’t know people made sleds on land, from  _ gold _ , carried by other people - which frankly seemed both excessive and counterintuitive. 

Two figures emerged from red curtains. First came a boy with posture too rigid, hair too kempt ( _ well someone got to keep his ponytail),  _ and nose pointed too high - almost parallel to the skyline - for a child not much older than Sokka himself. He looked stuck up, or tense, or both. Likely both. Soon after, his more rotund, relaxed grandfather stepped out. At least, Sokka assumed they were related with how their gaits strode in tandem - only family could walk together so naturally. Sokka became disappointed to find among their uniformed entourage, none of the soldiers’ masks had Taku’s face peeking through. 

Or maybe he felt relieved to not face that particular reminder for now.

“My friend,” Piandao offered a polite handshake, “it has been much too long since I have seen you.”

“Too long indeed,” the elder of their guests tugged Piandao into a full embrace, eliciting a surprised  _ umph _ . Sokka had to bite back his snort. “It brings me joy to see you in good health.” He inclined a head towards Sokka’s direction. “And who might this young man be.”

“Hi I’m Sokkaaaa-” he side-eyed the ward’s death glare. “-aa Lee! Sokka and Lee! Sokka Lee! I’ve got two names, uhuh.” 

Belly rumbling, the old man whooped out a laugh. “Wonderful to meet you, Sokka. My name is Iroh, and this is my nephew Zuko.”

“A pleasure,” his nephew nodded. 

“Sup.” Sokka greeted in return. Zuko blinked. Fat sighed. 

When Iroh ordered his red soldiers to remain outside, Sokka’s shoulders laxed. The water tribe boy internally wondered if this man sensed how their presence disconcerted him. With a little more skip to his step, Sokka trailed alongside his swordmaster, new company close behind. 

Tables having already been prepped, they could commence dining immediately. Piandao settled on one end with Sokka and Fat seated at arm's length, Iroh sat on the other with his nephew.

Their oldest guest hummed into his tea, satisfied. “Jasmine. You know me too well Piandao.”

“It relieves me to hear the tea is to your liking.”

“Indeed it is, though I’ll admit I’m not only here to indulge in your tea.” Iroh’s cup was placed back onto the platter with a  _ clink _ . “I’m here for a request.”

Piandao paused, giving his student’s shaking leg a subtle pinch from under the table. “I’d be happy to see what I can do for you.”

“It’s less to do with me, and more to do with my nephew.” He turned towards said boy. “Zuko, I think you have something to say.”

Zuko bowed his head with practiced grace. “I have always taken interest in the sword, though skillswise my technique is elementary. It would be an honor, Master Piandao, if you could kindly take me in as your student.”

_ Yeesh _ . Sokka never really got to talk to many kids around his age. Maybe it’s normal to talk fancy. Bemused, the omega wrinkled his nose. 

Sokka wished this kid all the luck, truly, but Master Piandao doesn’t just accept anyone. It took much sacrifice, strife, tears, and blood for Sokka to prove himself and earn the swordsman’s undivided confidence. Then even more blood after his nature was brought to light - courtesy of the new scar on his left palm. You couldn’t just stride in on expensive sleds and expect Piandao to-

“It’d be my pleasure to teach you, Prince Zuko.”

…

…

…

…

...okay so maybe being royalty’s an exception. 

Sokka had a bad feeling about this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoorah we've got the main important characters introduced! *cough cough Zuko*
> 
> As for pacing you might be wondering how deep in the timeline we are. This chapter ends around several months after Sokka's village gets attacked, so he is still ten years old (one year younger than Zuko). From here on out the pacing should speed up a little bit, but I want to play around with their childhood together, getting to know each other, Sokka's warrior origins, before we start launching into a plot more aligned with the show (though things won't align canonically, for obvious reasons). 
> 
> In case you are wondering, the backstory for Piandao is partially canon (his love for art, his military history, etc). I added all that stuff with Kyouko to draw some character parallels, and for self indulgent angst forgive me I love drama. 
> 
> Anyways thank you for the your love and patience. Comments and kudos fuel me. 
> 
> See you (hopefully) soon!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little fire nation invader weasels into Sokka's life.

“What, so I’m a babysitter now?”

“No, Sokka, you are not a babysitter.” Piandao dabbed the tip of his brush into ink, then resumed his paperwork. 

For some time Sokka assumed he practiced calligraphy so often for recreational purposes, but as of recently discovered the master owned a series of trading businesses near port - turns out taking in one student every ten years is hardly sustainable, let alone lucrative - so he actually practiced calligraphy for both recreational and monetary purposes. 

“In fact Zukko is your senior by almost a year,” Piandao waved a freshly inked poster through the air with a sonorous flap, drying it off. “Show some respect.” 

Oh  _ please  _ one year is nothing. Taku is five years older and still asked Sokka to kill a spider for him. “So why should I take care of someone older than me?” The water tribe boy huffed from his place on oak floorboards, the only surface immune to summer evening rays. Like a sponge he soaked cold in greedily. 

Piandao sighed, “Iroh requested that during the short period of time Zuko stays here, not to bring any of the royal guard or servants along. This is a huge responsibility on our part.” Fluid strokes marked a new sheet with effortless precision - at any time doing anything, the swordsman’s steady hand never faltered. “It means we are to watch over the wellbeing and safety of the crown prince. I’d imagine you understand the consequences were we to fall short.”

“Great, so I’m a bodyguard  _ and  _ a babysitter.”

“Leave his protection under Fatmir and I. Instead I’ve entrusted you the responsibility to oversee Zuko’s wellbeing. This may very well be the first time he’s lived independently.” 

“ _ Swordcamp  _ is ‘living independently’?”

Piandao spared an unamused side-eye. “As independent as the crown prince of the fire nation could ever be,” bold black letters glistened under flickering candle lights, “so he may need help adjusting. Think of him as another friend, like-” the name seemed to taste sour to the tongue “- _ Taku. _ ” Piandao and Taku’s relationship remained rocky at best, though they did agree to a temporary ceasefire for Sokka’s sake - it’s a little sweet of them. 

“That’s offensive to Taku.  _ Taku _ is cool.” Sokka thrusted both arms in the air. “The prince of the fire nation is evil, which is like, the opposite of cool.” He gesticulated wildly. 

Expert fingers leafed through stacks of paper, careful not to smudge or crinkle any edges. “Taku is a fire nation soldier, is he not?”

Sokka hesitated. “Well, yeah, but he’s not like the others.” Not like  _ that  _ man. Not a killer. 

“He’s still military,” Piandao added, blunt. “Works for them, helps them.” 

“W-well,” Sokka furrowed his eyebrows, “Taku’s not perfect...but he's not a bad guy.” His voice wavered. “Not completely.”

“Perhaps Zuko is ‘not completely’ bad either,” the alpha reasoned, ever dutiful to his role as patient teacher. “Make the effort to get along with him. Give him a chance. That is all I request of you.”

Sokka rolled over and settled his face deeper into the mat, grumbling. 

Fine, Sokka would try. But only to help make Piandao and Fat’s lives a bit easier. 

  
  
  


***

  
  
  


The next morning Sokka stepped from his quarters to find an assembly line of servants lugging chest after chest of the crown prince’s belongings. 

Fat suggested Zuko stay in the room adjacent to Sokka’s, though drastically underestimated how comfortable royalty lived, which induced a mild panic among the royal staff as to where to stash the remaining two-thirds of their young master’s supplies. 

The simpler - and more sensible solution in Sokka’s opinion - would’ve been to just relocate Zuko to one of the many spacious guest rooms in Piandao’s manor, though Fat had put his foot down, insisting that keeping the boys in close quarters would make it easier to watch over them both. 

Now the crown prince claimed all four remaining bedrooms in the hall. 

He might as well have just moved in. 

_ “Since your lessons don’t start until tomorrow, you’ll have plenty of time to get settled.” _ Fat had placed a firm,  _ encouraging _ hand on Sokka’s shoulder.  _ “You boys run along now and have some fun.” _

Fun? How was he supposed to know what the prince of the _ fire nation  _ did for fun? 

Sokka figured it best to ask directly.

“So, uh, what do you wanna do?”

Zuko’s eyes focused elsewhere. 

“I can give you a tour of the gardens?” he tried, a little louder. 

Still nothing. 

Sokka took this silence as opportunity to study his guest further. Whereas the boys Sokka remembered at home of similar stature, gangly and long, would flounce their limbs about, the boy in front of him stood stock still like a bamboo shoot, refusing to sway under the breeze. Sokka, usually detached from the allures of charm, had to at least recognize Zuko possessed plenty of it. A clear face - youthful, glowing, too pale, roundish - softened by boyish features, exactly the type his mother would coo and fawn over. Perhaps Sokka was too young to share her appreciation, though he felt it had more to do with the prince’s atmosphere. It’s similar to how Sokka preferred Kyouko’s portrait over Piandao’s extravagant landscape paintings - the latter lacked a certain level of human camaraderie.

Of course, this could easily be solved if the boy just talked.    
  


Sokka didn’t understand. Communication wise the prince was cooperative, talented even, with a careful decorum certainly living up to his royal repute. Though now when he thought about it, this probably remained true only around adults, authority, ‘important people’. Not some run-of-the-mill peasant boy. No, there’d be little incentive for that. 

Sokka sighed. He’d take a more specific approach. “What do you usually do with your friends?”

The prince surrendered a curious glance. “Friends?”

So he  _ did  _ speak. Sokka jumped at the opening. “Yeah, what do you do with people you hang out with?”

“Everything.”  _ What?  _ “The servants do everything for me,” the prince answered, curt. 

This conversation had been doomed from the start. Rich people were impossible, Sokka decided. “No _ ,  _ not your servants. What do you do with other  _ kids _ ? For fun?” He felt this sandal impatiently  _ tap tap _ against hardwood floors. 

Zuko blinked. “Fun?”

_ Tui’s gills. _

Sokka dragged his palm over his face. There had to be something they had in common. Something a fire nation prince and backwater peasant boy would both, by the least, tolerate...

Golden eyes widened, then crinkled into a sly grin. 

“Wanna check out the sword room?”

  
  
  


***

  
  
  


The Piandao collection was something to behold. Rows of lustrous metals lined the walls, many weapons forged by Piandao himself, a rare few brought in from other nations, testament to the experienced swordsman’s travels. Foreign treasures dotted the sea of blacks, greys, and reds with proud blues and greens. Zuko’s eyes lit up at the rare spectacle. Sokka puffed his chest. Master Piandao’s awesomeness was a universal fact even royalty couldn’t deny. 

Though he couldn’t help but find Zuko’s reaction curious. The weapons room seemed almost novel to him. Hard to believe when considering his, well, to put it politely,  _ militaristic  _ background.  __ “Do you not get to see many swords at home?”

“No. Father always wanted me to focus on firebending. He says swords are useless against flames.” The prince’s tone was stiff, rehearsed - like it was something he had to remind himself more than once. 

_ Sounds like something a fire lord would say  _ Sokka thought sardonically. 

Taku warned him many times to tread with caution in conversation about fire nation military, and to especially avoid commenting on royalty altogether, otherwise he could be arrested for this thing called  _ ‘libel’ _ , which Sokka thought sounded even dumber than the rule itself. Did correcting the firelord count as ‘libel’? Probably.

“I don’t know about that -” at the end his recalcitrance refused to stay silent on the matter “- Piandao’s defeated plenty of firebenders and he can’t even bend.”

Coming from the fire nation prince, Sokka expected some entitled rebuttal or, even better, offended gasping - very over the top  _ royal  _ gasping. Instead Zuko just stared at his palms, flummoxed. Not as flamboyant a reaction Sokka hoped for, yet still amusing in its own right. “Bending has always been the source of raw power. I never considered there were other ways to gain it.”

“Of course there are,” Sokka affirmed, certain. He retrieved one of the crafted blades perched on the wall. Butterfly swords were a type of short dao: easy to conceal, practical to use, and generally came in pairs. Not the flashiest, but a good fit for Zuko, Sokka thought with an assured nod. He handed it over for the prince to inspect. “Swords are the coolest.” 

Zuko ran his thumb along its curved handle. “It’s awfully beautiful, for a weapon.” He twisted the blade in his grip. 

“It isn’t just a weapon,” Sokka recited. “It’s an artform.”

“An artform,” Zuko repeated, skeptical. 

“Mhm. Swordsmanship is for the self - to practice discipline, control, and...uh -” good thing Master Piandao wasn’t here to drill Sokka for forgetting his teachings “- anyways it’s not just for killing people or war.” He snatched the blade back. 

“If not for war, then what is the purpose of learning how to fight?”

“To protect,” Sokka countered easily, twirling the blade around his hand, “- and for fun.” 

Zuko gave him a  _ look,  _ like Sokka was crazy, then oh so princely stated, “You’re odd.”

Sokka spluttered. “Odd?” He thrust the sword in Zuko’s direction accusingly. “You’re the one without friends, buster.”

The prince raised a defiant chin. “I have friends!”

Sokka puffed his chest in challenge. “Yeah? Name one.”

“There’s Mai!” Zuko flicked his eyes to the side, betraying a short spurt of hesitance. “...though she’s more so my betrothed.”

The omega scrunched his nose. Again with the big words, how irritating. “What’s a betrothed?”

Zuko tossed him another one of those looks. “You’re not very educated, are you?”

Somehow the fact that Zuko made an honest observation and not an actual insult offended him even more. “I’ll take friends over fancy words anyday.” Sokka whipped around, crossing his arms with an indignant huff. 

A beat passed. Then another. Then extended to what felt too much like awkward silence. 

Sokka peaked behind to see what the hold up was. “What no comeback? Thought you could do better.” He clicked his tongue. 

...

“I should, shouldn’t I?” Zuko’s eyes remained downcast. 

_ Yeesh.  _

An already placid face settled into marble. The prince must have been the type to drift in thought a lot, which led to overthinking things, which caused problems for a person like Sokka (who took to running his mouth as if his life depended on it). 

“Whoa whoa I take it back okay?” Sokka fanned his hands out in apology, then looked down at them in betrayal because  _ this was the prince of the fire nation of all people why are you feeling bad for hurting his feelings?  _ He looked back up at Zuko, still staring intently on the same spot of the floor. 

The usual response to his inappropriate insults were equally inappropriate insults. People like Katara or Taku knew how to fight back. He wasn’t used to people, just, sitting there and  _ agreeing  _ with him.  _ How am I the bad guy right now?  _

Sokka laughed, hoping it doesn’t come out too forced, and said, “I wasn’t being serious. It’s all jokes from me. All the time.” He gave an encouraging fist bump to Zuko’s shoulder, only the prince swayed  _ with  _ the force, causing Sokka to feel like he  _ struck  _ him. 

…

“Don’t take it to heart,” he tried more gently, this time without physical contact. 

…

_ Spirits. _

Wall after wall, Sokka set up barricades for when the fire nation ultimately reemerged. Never could he predict such poor defense on Zuko's part. The royal guards were gonna take him out if Fat didn’t get to him first. Sokka groaned. 

It appeared they were back to square one. 

“Wanna check out the pond?”

The young prince’s eyes regained a little bit of that sparkle - apparently the word ‘pond’ was key. “...are there turtleducks?” he asked, voice hopeful.

Yeah, Sokka had this host thing down. 

  
  
  


***

  
  
  


Much to Sokka’s - pleasant - surprise Zuko was far from the tyrannical village raider he expected. 

With the exception of a mutual passion for swords, they held almost nothing in common. But Zuko was a good listener, and Sokka was a good talker, so in that sense they turned out to be pretty compatible. 

_ “You know how way down south there are tigerseals, but when you go further north there are liontigers, by the equator?” _

_ “Mm.” _

_ “Makes you wonder if they’re related. They should be, right?” _

_ “Mm.” _

_ “Do you think there are tigers out there? Like just tigers, nothing else? “ _

_ *shrugs* _

_ “Gran Gran says having numerous partners is indecent. Maybe the tigers are indecent, and that’s why they’ve got grandkids all over the place.” _

_ “Maybe.” _

And so on and so forth. 

Sokka should feel more unnerved of the fact he got along with the prince of the fire nation a little  _ too  _ well. To be fair he did dwell over it sometimes, but they had already settled into a comfortable routine. Each day they’d eat meals together, train together, recover from said training (Sokka considered several times the possibility of Piandao secretly being a demon), then bond over mutual trauma from said training... 

Sokka found it harder and harder to feel offended on behalf of his besieged homeland. 

One time as Sokka was watching Zuko sharpen his dual blades - because he had nothing better to do - the reason he enjoyed the fire nation prince’s company sort of...hit him. Sokka could talk about whatever he wanted for as long as he wanted without worrying if he bored the other, and in turn Zuko seemed almost eager to hear. The last time he had someone like that around him, well...

The last person was Mom. 

Only unlike Zuko Mom laughed at Sokka’s stellar sense of humor, and generally smiled a lot more than he did. Zuko wasn’t much of a smiler, always stone faced - Taku categorized this type of expression as a  _ ‘resting bitch face’  _ which in turn got Taku banned from the manor until Fat felt reassured enough of Sokka’s innocence to let him return. Zuko’s pretty much exactly what Sokka pictured Piandao would be like if he were, you know, eleven years old. 

Sokka shivered. 

“Something wrong?” Zuko asked. He set down his whetstone and blade, instead staring at Sokka with those earnest eyes. Eyes that promised he wouldn’t shrug Sokka aside like a nuisance _. _ He noted they were russet gold, metallic in luster. 

“Nothing. I was just imagining Piandao as a kid.” 

Zuko’s face twisted. 

“I know right?”

“Why would you want to think about that?” Zuko asked with mild disgust. 

“I don’t  _ want  _ to. I just  _ do _ .” Sokka’s overactive imagination came with numerous downsides. This just happened to be one of them. 

“Hm.” Resuming his ministrations, Zuko moved on to sharpen the next blade. 

“Zuko?”

The prince paused to look up again. 

“Why are you here?” Zuko tilted his head and held up his sword as if to say,  _ isn’t that obvious _ . “Staying here, I mean.” The royal family had enough jurisdiction to order Piandao to the palace instead of risking their prince’s safety by sending him here. 

Zuko blinked, then looked at the floor - caught in another one of those silent spells. Sokka learned to stay quiet and let him be when they happened. 

After a few beats Zuko said, “Uncle thought it’d be good for me.” He traced a finger along the blade’s hilt. “Things have been difficult at home.”

_ Difficult _ . At the royal palace? Sokka couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. “Trouble in paradise?”

“I’d hardly call it a paradise,” Zuko muttered to himself. Both blades in hand, he gave two good swings through the air to test their balance. Sokka contemplated learning the dual blades himself, but recognized Zuko’s personal attachment. Although the prince could barely run through basic forms without fumbling his grip, a sense of calm overcame his body whenever he touched them. Sokka remembered Zuko’s expression when he trained for the first time: how the invisible weight on his shoulders seemed to disappear; how he stood a little straighter afterwards. Sokka backed off; the butterfly swords were his. “Things before were manageable until...you know.”

“Until what?”

Zuko paused. “You haven’t heard? News spread everywhere.” 

“What? What haven’t I heard?” Little by little Piandao granted Sokka leeway to venture outside, eventually reaching a level of freedom incomparable to what he held back home, where the omega could barely walk two steps out the door without being bombarded by maternal protectiveness. Sokka’s horizons had expanded - thrilling, new, dangerous. It spoiled him, planted an unquenchable desire to know more about everything, everywhere. 

Then Zuko’s face crumpled. Sometimes digging too much came with a cost. “My mom… disappeared.”

Sokka blanched. “The _ queen _ ?” How does the queen of the fire nation up and disappear like that? Unless...

He chanced a weak smile. “It’s okay, I lost my mom too,” his voice wavered, sad yet understanding. 

There was a flash of piercing darkness in Zuko’s eyes Sokka was not prepared for. “My mom’s not dead!” he growled fiercely. 

“Okay okay!” Sokka backed off, hands raised in conciliation. For some reason they were trembling. “Sorry! I got the wrong idea. Your mom’s alive, just missing, I got you - “ he raised a weak finger “- you can put those down now.” Sokka struggled to hide his panic under a shaky smile. 

Zuko’s eyes flickered to his brandished blades - pointing at Sokka threateningly - then widened upon realization. “Sorry,” he mumbled, sheathing the twin swords behind his back. Gentle cheeks tinged deep red, a blushing angel. It was a deceptive image, Sokka realized. 

Disarrayed, the omega could only muster a short nod. 

Piandao was right, he did need to keep his guard up. 

  
  
  


***

  
  
  


The nightmares returned. 

Up until now they replayed the same memory of his mother’s death over and over. Sokka may not have seen her death, but he was there: could hear her screams, smell the foul stench of charred flesh, feel his skin prickle under heat, and relive it all with visceral accuracy. Recently, however, Sokka’s imagination started to take artistic liberties. Now his dreams were fluid, changing,  _ visual _ . His mother’s body would melt like wax, screaming for Sokka to help, or her flesh would blacken into charcoal, cracking at the surface. Sometimes the soldier held him back by the ponytail, other times he’d anchor him down with an alpha command. 

How it panned out didn’t matter. They all ended the same. 

Sokka sprung forwards in a cold sweat. He buried his face in his palms, taking many deep breaths to quell his heartbeat, then tugged against the collar of his shirt. The bulge of his mother’s necklace elicited a sigh of relief. Still there, still safe. 

Sword in hand, Sokka stepped into the cool night air. It didn’t take too long for him to fall into the easy rhythm of drills. Either he tired himself out enough to sleep again, or morning would come, and he’d have to fight through the fatigue until night returned.

Fortune smiled on Sokka tonight. With the weight of exhaustion in his bones, Sokka lumbered over to his room, a drunken teeter to his step. Perhaps the spirits did listen to his prayers, had forgiven him, maybe even gift him better dreams.

Sokka should’ve prayed harder. 

“What are you doing?” 

He didn’t need to ask, it was obvious. Zuko had entered Sokka’s bedroom without permission, and now stood at the center of it, staring blankly towards his wardrobe. 

His now  _ opened  _ wardrobe. 

Sokka marched forwards and shoved the prince aside. “Back off! That’s my stuff!”

Zuko stumbled from the force, eyes still locked on Sokka’s belongings. Sokka let out a furious huff as he closed the doors with a shuddering slam. It was futile, Zuko had seen. 

“You’re a tribesman,” Zuko stated. They were fresh in his memory: the parka decorated in blue, the knife carved from leopard shark tooth, Sokka’s boomerang - all so foreign, yet strikingly familiar to those taught to keep an eye out for it. A fire nation prince, for instance, who now had the audacity to not even look Sokka in the eye. “One of those snow savages.” 

Sokka’s blood boiled. “Yeah? And what of it? You gonna tell one of your soldiers? Tell them to put me away?”

The prince jolted. “I- I”

“Or are you gonna do it yourself?” Sokka growled, gripping the hilt of his sword. He wouldn’t go down without a fight this time. 

“I don’t-”

“Do you want to kill me now? Cus I’m a  _ ‘snow savage’ _ ?” The slur left a bitter aftertaste, felt wrong in his mouth. He hated it. “Our friendship must’ve meant little to you. I wouldn’t expect any less from the fire prince.” Because this was what it came down to, wasn’t it? 

Sokka was a fool to forget where he came from, who he was, what happened to his people - all because of the predecessors of the boy who stood before him. 

If not now, Zuko would join them - one of these days. 

Slowly, the son of the water chief drew out his sword. This was the true nature of their relationship. 

“You think we’re friends?” 

_ What? _

Candlelight painted the prince’s eyes with brilliant specks of gold - burning, expectant. 

“Y-Yeah?” Sokka fidgeted under the heat. 

“You’re not my subject. You hold no duty towards me.” Zuko’s voice held a hint of breathy wonder. 

The comment threw Sokka for a loop. Duty? Towards  _ Zuko _ ? Sure the past few weeks have been -  _ admittedly  _ \- fun and all but ‘duty’ would be such a ridiculous label for it. He hung out with him because of situational acquaintanceship...and because he was bored. “Of course not,” Sokka sneered. 

A leaden pause. 

Then, to Sokka’s astonishment, the latch of his wardrobe clicked shut. 

“Let’s keep it that way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘And they were roommates
> 
> Oh my god they were roommates’


End file.
